Saying that origami is Japanese is like saying that music is German or painting is French. Anyone with even a basic education understands that such statements are absurd. So why do we continue to say that origami is Japanese? The art of paper folding is a universal art, just like painting and music.
A magazine like Atlas Obscura understands the weight of words. The inclusion of the word "Obscura" in its name underscores its intent to highlight the obscure and unique. Likewise, the word “origami,” to capture attention, fits perfectly for the same reason. It’s exotic, attractive. This is why it has replaced other terms used in different parts of the world. What isn’t right is our failure to correct the misconception: the word origami is Japanese, but the art of paper folding is not exclusively Japanese. We reiterate: only the word is Japanese in origin. Paper folding is a universal art. It's disheartening to see this simplification repeated, though it's understandable: we haven’t done enough to clarify the misunderstanding, and it's become "convenient" to continue this way. The saying “history is written by the victors” has never been truer: one side seems to have prevailed over the other, based on marketing not always grounded in history. Just as paper folding has deep roots in Japan, it also has deep roots in other parts of the world. Both traditions have contributed artists, techniques, and intense discussions to make paper folding the robust, wonderful art it is today, with a bright future ahead. The EMOZ in Zaragoza, Spain, emerges from the Western tradition while honoring the Eastern one. Its walls indelibly inscribe – for those willing to read, not for those blind to understanding – the importance of the intermingling of two histories that evolved independently in the West and the East until the late 19th century. European paper folding entered Japan, and Japanese folding enriched Europe. This rich cultural exchange, known as interfusion (Hatori Koshiro, see reference below) gave rise to modern origami. Neither tradition is older or more important than the other: in history and science, both terms -old, important- provoke discomfort and "raised eyebrows." Before the above mentioned interfusion (from 1853 onward), even in Japan, origami was not used for figurative folding in Japan. Folding techniques were called tatamigami, orikata, orisue, or tsutsumi. These terms referred to folding actions. In Spain, it was called pajaritas, papirolas or papiroflexia, in France cocottes or pliage de papier; in Germany, papierfalten, to give some examples (China, Korea, etc. have their particular words and do not use “origami”). In a semiotic sense, these terms evoke the idea of folding and help to mentally construct the action (just as the word “house” evokes the structure we all recognize). The semiotic problem lies in collectively associating the meaning of folding with “Japan” or “Japanese.” This idea is so ingrained in the collective unconscious that — and here I criticize myself — when choosing a name for the museum, I opted for Museo del Origami, thinking it would be the most direct way to attract visitors (I suppose the same happened with EMOZ when they debated between origami and papiroflexia for the Escuela Museo Origami Zaragoza). Modern origami was a collective development process, not as individualistic as it seems when figures like Akira Yoshizawa are exalted. It was a fascinating synergy that took place in the 1950s and 60s when a small group of folders in various countries began exchanging letters with their models, and this exchange became a powerful engine for developing new techniques. Akira Yoshizawa didn’t invent the system of symbols either. The symbols he used had existed in European literature for centuries. According to historian Joan Sallas, the oldest reference to “valley” and “mountain” folds appears in a book by the German Andreas Klett from 1677. What Yoshizawa innovatively did was incorporate a small “cartouche” in each of his submissions to Japanese craft magazines (I wrote a long article about this in The Fold some time ago). This cartouche contained the main symbols he used in his diagrams: valley, mountain, dead line, and a few arrows (other Japanese artists also used arrows). So, Yoshizawa didn’t invent anything new. However, his diagrams were clear, clean, and organized, which is why Samuel Randlett used this foundation and improved it by adding new arrows. Finally, I want to address the figure of the tsuru. It’s such a powerful symbol that it’s associated with Japan and origami worldwide. Few resist using it as a “hook” to attract the public, like in Robert J. Lang’s recent lecture at the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine. Lang knows there’s no direct historical line from the tsuru to a satellite. But he used it anyway because it’s easy to understand. The problem I see is that, although Lang clarified that origami is a universal art, the “damage” was already done by choosing a conference title that reinforces the connection with Japan. Perhaps it would have been appropriate during the lecture to spend a couple of minutes showing a science-interested audience the orthogonal grid of European paper folding and the 22.5-degree crease pattern of the tsuru, proving how both traditions developed and persisted independently for centuries on both continents. Akira Yoshizawa had significant governmental support to spread his ideas and art in the West. He was part of a contingent of artists the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs sent around the world after World War II, with the explicit intention of fostering friendships and ties between nations. In the West, Yoshizawa found fertile ground, already cultivated through correspondence networks since the early 1950s. Additionally, Lillian Oppenheimer had adopted the word origami, displacing paperfolding in TV presentations to “sell” it as something exotic and different from children’s crafts. This repeated use of the word origami, along with Yoshizawa’s travels and Isao Honda’s bestselling books worldwide, ingrained the idea that origami was the Japanese art of paper folding, pushing aside and under a rich and ancient Western folding tradition. Origami museums in the West have an obligation to remember this history and do everything possible to spread it. Laura Rozenberg, June 6, 2024 References: Hatori Koshiro: History of Origami in the East and the West before Interfusion. Origami5, Fifth International Meeting of Origami Science, Mathematics and Education, edited by Patsy Wang-Iverson, Robert J. Lang, Mark Yim, AK Peters, 2011 Rozenberg Laura: On the Evolution of the Notation System in Origami: https://tinyurl.com/3zf6emw9 <https://tinyurl.com/3zf6emw9> . Also: OrigamiUSA’s The Fold online magazine #50. 2019 (https://origamiusa.org/thefold/article/evolution-notation-system <https://origamiusa.org/thefold/article/evolution-notation-system>) > On Jun 6, 2024, at 2:17 AM, Robert Lang <rob...@langorigami.com> wrote: > > Cool. The Museo del Origami de Zaragoza (EMOZ) got featured on Atlas Obscura! > > https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/origami-museum-zaragoza-spain > > We need to point them to Museo del Origami in Colonia, too. > > Robert >
